Déjà vu
by Tempestt Londyn
Summary: Both Nymphadora and Teddy spoke the six dreaded words that no mother, especially a disowned, former Black, ever hopes to hear.


**Disclaimer: **I am rightfully entitled to **absolutely no part **of the Harry Potter series.

**Author's Note**: Written mid-September simply because I was feeling a little sentimental. On another note, it's great to be back in the UK-Scotland is beautiful. And, while I'm over here, YouTube is a lifesaver as I try to stay current with the happenings of the Top 17 of XFactorUSA.

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><p><strong>~Déjà vu~<br>**

_**Christmas 1984**_

Nymphadora's first winter break was intended to be a pleasant one. Andromeda had purchased a multitude of groceries in order to prepare what Ted called her "legendary soufflés," selected the perfect magenta robes for her daughter, and lavishly decorated the family home in brilliant colors.

Nothing of the young girl's arrival foreshadowed a looming disaster—the young Metamorphmagus had cheerfully burst through the front door, eyes green, hair black and curly, and tripped over her Hufflepuff robes. She would've fallen face first on the carpet had her mother lacked the insight to quickly performing a Cushioning Charm.

Snow cloaked virtually every inch of the Sheffield countryside as the smell of baked bread drifted into the drawing room where father, mother, and daughter were presently seated.

The fire log crackled as heat radiated throughout their home.

Warm as it was, the heat could not rival that of Andromeda's boiling blood.

Nymphadora was seated crisscross on the floor, pouting, her brow knitted as she glared up at her mother. Andromeda didn't spare her daughter a glance. She crossed her arms and left leg and turned her attention, tight-lipped, to the adjacent window. Ted's eyes cautiously flickered between the two of them. When the young girl's rested on his, he gave a nearly imperceptible shake of the head.

Although certain this holiday was damaged beyond repair, Ted wasn't necessarily inclined to fuel the fire.

No one spoke for a while. In particular, _father _and _daughter_ did not speak.

Whoever said badgers were "the most fearless animals on Earth" _lied_.

Snakes were pretty damn scary.

And _clearly_ this person had never met Andromeda Tonks.

The young girl squirmed, unable to bear the silence any longer. Her father, sensing an outburst, inhaled sharply. His wife shot him a rather contemptuous glare before facing the source of the shrill voice.

"But mum—"

"Be quiet, Nymphadora," Andromeda reprimanded. The audacity of her daughter's previous statement had rocked her psyche and she would not permit such a declaration to see the light of day. "I don't want to hear another word on the subject. Now, if you and your father would kindly join me in the kitchen, I'd like to eat dinner."

With that, the witch stood and tossed a lock of brunette hair over her shoulder as she stared haughtily at her offspring.

"But Charlie Weasley told me that Aurors—" She continued, having sprung to her feet before her mother had taken a solitary step towards her destination.

Andromeda closed her eyes in lieu of allowing her face to contort in rage. _Weasley_. In the darkness, she saw nothing save for ginger hair and far too gleeful expressions. It infuriated her—the manner in which that clan carried themselves. The lot of them were far too optimistic for her liking, casually strutting about through Diagon Alley, seemingly oblivious to the hell that had _only just _ceased to plague wizarding England.

But then she remembered the mother, the Prewett woman, having lost brothers at the hands of five Death Eaters. Naturally, this news had made the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. This thought only served to further anger Andromeda.

Surely this Weasley boy acknowledged the fate of his uncles by now. Andromeda knew Fabian and Gideon hadn't been Aurors, but still, they'd relinquished civilian status simply by association with the Order! And now Charlie Weasley found it perfectly acceptable to put ideas into her impressionable daughter's head?

Andromeda forcefully buried these thoughts within her and opened her eyes. She was aware of Ted's watchful eyes on her, but ignored him as was custom when she and her daughter were having one their infamous "moments."

"If you wish to be a _Weasley_, young lady, you may go and live with them."

"'Drom—" Ted began, but Andromeda casually flicked her hand in his direction as a sign of how uninterested she was.

"Aurors are _respected_, Nymphadora, yes. But that's quite the dangerous career choice! And no daughter of mine is going to risk her life chasing around the scum of the Earth!"

Mocking her, the Metamorphmagus's hair turned a fiery red. She clenched her fists and moved closer towards her mother.

Andromeda looked her from head to toe, intrigued, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. Her daughter was a lot of things—frustrated, stubborn, reckless. But Andromeda saw the fear that threatened to pour from her daughter's eyes even as she strode forward. A _fool_ she was not. And should she reveal herself to be by _trying_ to hit her, like a common _muggle_ child, Andromeda was not above administering a _muggle _beating. Even if it _was_ Christmas Day.

Ted massaged his temples, observing the pair with bated breath as he awaited the argument that would surely shatter the glass.

Surprisingly, the shorter of the two only stomped to her bedroom and slammed the door so mightily that picture frames tittered on the edges of their surfaces.

Andromeda was rendered temporarily speechless and stared, mouth agape, in the direction of her daughter's bedroom. The expression was fleeting, however, as she soon rounded on Ted. But he, so deafened by the ruckus, merely looked at her impassively. Ted saw her lips move, but his ears were exempt from her words.

The blonde resigned himself to day's obvious fate. He grabbed his wife's hand, dragged her down the hall and knocked gingerly on their daughter's door.

"Dora, it's daddy. May I come in?"

Yes, this was a half-truth. But if Dora knew both he _and _Andromeda stood on the other side of the door, nothing would be accomplished. And after everything, _Alohomora _would be too physically taxing—which was pitiful—and too insulting.

If destined that Christmas dinner go bone cold, so be it. It was certainly more prudent for Ted to moderate the impending row between these two headstrong females.

Ted considered, bitterly, how valuable a _son _would be in moments like this.

_**Summer 2012**_

"Remember your manners, dear." Andromeda irritably reminded her grandson as he shoveled food in his mouth.

She never gave up hope that he might come to learn some semblance of proper decorum, though she had been preaching the same thing for years now.

Teddy's cheeks flushed. It was one thing for his grandmother to scold him in privacy, but doing so in the midst of present company was, to say the least, embarrassing.

"Sorry, grandma." He muttered, spearing a piece of meat.

Andromeda rolled her eyes, swishing red wine in her glass. "You were saying, Mr. Potter? The Headmistress has requested what of you?"

"That I…" Harry's eyes flickered over to his godson and tried to keep from smiling as Teddy had resumed eating rather savagely. Andromeda coughed impatiently.

Harry too flushed and cursed her uncanny ability to make a grown man squirm.

"Professor McGonagall has asked me to serve as a guest lecturer for Defense Against the Dark Arts," he informed her. "Ginny thinks it's a great idea, seeing as I am 'The Boy Who Lived...Twice.'"

Teddy chuckled appreciatively, but Andromeda met the man with a steely gaze. Harry immediately regretted his unintended ill-humor, realizing that the internal wounds inflicted by deaths of a husband, a daughter, and a son-in-law were to be forever exposed. Undoubtedly, his age old moniker had done nothing but remind Andromeda of the crazed regime.

If not for his godson, the dark haired man would've respectfully declined Andromeda's invitation for dinner. While he understood she wasn't intentionally callous, he found it deeply difficult to act maturely under her practically soul-piercing stare and hold his tongue in response to her curt, cynical comments.

"Quite the excellent idea indeed," she decided, taking a sip of wine. "Especially with such prodigious skill against the Dark Arts…" Andromeda trailed off, a peculiar look in her eyes. She briefly stared into space before shaking her head and cutting her potatoes.

"I'm truly honored that she asked," Harry continued, unsure of how to interpret her compliment and conscious of Teddy's smirk at his poorly concealed, foolish blush. "But I don't think Minister Shacklebolt will be thrilled at my being absent from work for a prolonged period, so I'm not sure exactly what McGonagall has in mind."

From there, the conversation over dinner progressed rather nicely. Andromeda recalled an amusing tale of Teddy's "adorable crush" on a server in Florean Fortescue's. He, in turn, tried to diffuse the laughter by shifting the conversation towards his excitement for the upcoming Quidditch match between the Wimbourne Wasps and the Gimbi Giant-Slayers.

Some weeks later, grades arrived. Andromeda had discreetly watched Teddy patrol the floors and longingly gaze out of windows, chuckling slightly as Teddy dismissed her assertions that he was apprehensive.

"Get in here, you bloody bird!" The teenager snarled when the owl was within reach. Teddy nearly dragged the poor bird in by its talons.

"Language, Teddy."

"Sorry, grams." He said quickly, just to appease her, removing the letter from its beak.

They were in Ted's study, Andromeda peering down her spectacles in deep concentration which was broken when Teddy ripped the letter. Brown eyes scanned over the parchment. He produced quite the animated celebratory motion and, grinning like an idiot, handed her the parchment.

Andromeda stared at it intently, as if struggling to translate a foreign language. Then she rose and hugged him. "All 'Outstandings,' Teddy! How wonderful!" She kissed his forehead. "I _do_ wonder why you weren't placed in Ravenclaw."

The young wizard scowled teasingly at the greying women. "Slytherins are _ambitious_, grams. _You _should know that."

She pulled back from him and raised an eyebrow, understanding the validity in her grandson's statement. "Yes, I suppose I ought to. What's wrong?" She asked, for his expression had now become sulky.

"Well," he scratched his head, furious with himself at being unable to hide his worry. "I suppose…I'm just really nervous about O.W.L.s. Are they terribly difficult?"

"Anything worth achieving is never easy," Andromeda told him empathetically, understanding his tension, as she sat down. "_You _should know that."

Teddy nodded, suddenly finding smiling to be quite the challenge, and plopped into a tufted chair. When Andromeda closed the book, and rose, he noticed the script on its binding.

"Is that book on Potions?"

"Mmm hmm," she responded, placing it back on the shelf.

"Professor Slughorn says I could be great as a Potioneer. Seems impressed with what I've brewed, he does." He cavalierly flung a leg over the arm of the chair. "But I told him, 'Professor, I'm going to be an Auror.'"

Honestly, Andromeda had been listening to Teddy only half-heartedly. But those six words tore at her very soul; those same six words that pounded in her head, constricting her heart, during that uncomfortable Christmas dinner nearly thirty years ago.

"_**I'm going to be an Auror."**_

Andromeda's vision grew hazy, her mind racing.

_Frank Longbottom. Auror. Mentally incapacitated._

_Alice Longbottom. Auror. Mentally incapacitated._

_Rufus Scrimgeour. Auror. Dead._

_Alastor Moody. Auror. Dead._

_Nymphadora Tonks…_

Teddy didn't remember moving, only that time moved in slow motion, and he caught his grandmother before she hit the floor.

At least playing Seeker came in handy when needed.

As she wept, uncontrollably, Teddy realized he could never fulfill this dream. It wasn't that he lacked intelligence, but doing so would only serve to increase the sorrow his grandmother could never discharge.

Teddy didn't care about glory or fame; he only sought to make a difference so that neither witch nor wizard would have to grow up an orphan like him and his godfather, pitied, every which way they turned, by what felt like the masses.

"No," the woman whimpered, tightly grasping the half-blood's shirt, willing him to see reason. "Not _you_…if you…"

Out of the blue, a picture frame crashed. Teddy recoiled at the near contact, then tilted his head to get a better view.

In the ruined frame was a photograph of the four of them—his grandmother, his parents, and himself—taken ages ago.

The cracked glass impaled the faces of Remus, Tonks, and Teddy himself.

Andromeda's, however, was unharmed.

Then, Teddy gained all the resolve in the world.

"I'm sorry," he sputtered, tears spilling down his cheeks as he buried his face in her neck, shaking, feeling like a vulnerable one-year-old. "Maybe old McGonagall will need a Transfiguration professor too."

_**~Fin.~**_


End file.
